


Recount

by Kablob, mylordshesacactus



Category: RWBY
Genre: AU Where Watts And Tyrian Got The Rona And Couldn't Fuck Everything Up, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brief transphobia, F/F, Fantastic Racism, Gen, No Pundits Were Harmed In The Making Of This Fic, Political Nonsense, Polycule Shenanigans, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26821372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kablob/pseuds/Kablob, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylordshesacactus/pseuds/mylordshesacactus
Summary: “And there we have it! Official confirmation has just come through, and the winner of the Atlas Council election is: Robyn Hill! Miss Hill’s grassroots campaign has been the favorite for months now, but there were still many who didn’t believe that an independent Huntress from Mantle could...”
Relationships: Joanna Greenleaf/Fiona Thyme, Joanna Greenleaf/Robyn Hill/May Marigold/Fiona Thyme, Robyn Hill/Fiona Thyme, Robyn Hill/May Marigold
Comments: 31
Kudos: 189





	Recount

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to HAHA TRUMP'S GOT THE RONA

Fiona could barely keep her feet on the ground, skipping with excitement as Robyn rejoined her just offstage.

“That was _amazing!_ So,” she asked with a cheeky grin. “Did you time the ending wrong, or…?

Robyn triple-checked that she’d switched the mic off before she managed a smile, studiously pretending she didn’t notice Schnee’s numbers creeping steadily higher. “I just need a minute, lambchop.”

“Well,” said Fiona helpfully, glancing at her scroll, “you’ve got like…twenty seconds?”

“Before _what?”_

Fiona looked so reproachful that Robyn, against her better judgement, relented.

“All right, all right. I’m excited too,” she said, which made Fiona beam. Robyn squeezed her shoulder, grounding herself, and felt her smile flicker. “Just...try not to get your hopes too high.”

“Too late.” Fiona squeezed her hands too tight, the only outward sign that she was as tense as Robyn herself. “You’re gonna do it and you’re gonna be _amazing,_ Robyn. I.” She swallowed. “Robyn, I’m so proud of— _shit! Twenty seconds!”_

“I’m _going,”_ Robyn laughed. She took a single deep breath, thumbed her mic back on, and smiled widely as she stepped back onto the blinding stage. There was scattered applause and a few whistles; she grinned back at the crowd as she announced, “The polls are about to close! In twelve...eleven…”

She let the gathered crowd take up the countdown, a violently quivering hope starting to burn in her chest…

Applause broke out as the countdown ticked over to zero and polls officially closed. Robyn kept smiling for their sake—and glanced over her shoulder yet again for her own.

* * *

 _"Alright folks, all polling stations have now closed,”_ announced the ABN election commentator. _“As you can see, preliminary results have Hill leading by 53 to Schnee’s 47. We’re still waiting on the election commission to confirm, but I think it’s safe to say…”_

Joanna gave a long, contented sigh.

“Eat my ass, Schnee,” she said, voice filled with deep satisfaction.

May smiled, but couldn’t keep it up for long. “Don’t celebrate yet,” she muttered, pitching her voice low to keep the celebrating voters around them from overhearing. “Nothing’s official. Not all the votes are in.”

Joanna frowned at the broadcast, then down at May, then back again.

“I mean,” she said. “They kind of _are,_ they’re just confirming everything. That’s a six-point margin, May, he’s not making _that_ up with last-minute voting. That’s _way_ out of recount territory, it’s not even close. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” May lied.

What was wrong with her? She’d been _fine._ Good, even. She’d been more relaxed than she could remember being in...a long time. The campaign had been over, win or lose, and there’d been nothing left for May Marigold to stress about other than sitting back and being proud of what they’d done.

And what they’d done was...win.

Suddenly their desperate dreams, all those hours going through contingency plans with a fine-toothed comb, felt _real_ all at once.

May realized dimly that she’d picked up her weapon again. It was...a comfort thing.

Robyn really was going to be on the Council. Of the Kingdom of Atlas.

And what did that make the rest of them, then?

She’d sworn she would never go back, the idea of...she _believed_ in Robyn, she believed in the path they’d chosen, they all knew that they’d reached the limits of their ability to do any good without institutional power. But they’d been clawing a living out of the permafrost as independent Huntresses for so long and that work was _honest._ For the first time in May’s life—she could _breathe_ in Mantle.

She was willing to give up that peace, for Mantle’s sake. She would do _anything_ for Mantle’s sake. But she felt the loss at her core all the same.

“Seriously,” said Joanna. “This isn’t much different than what all the polls were predicting. Am I the _only one_ who actually thought we’d win?”

May threw up the hand that wasn’t clutching her bowstaff like a lifeline. _“Yes!”_

Joanna spluttered. “Wh— _you’re_ the one who kept lecturing Robyn about politics and how she had a better chance than she thought! What was all that stuff about ‘people can tell when they’re being lied to’ and ‘being honest and forthright resonates more than you realize’ if you thought she was doomed?”

“I _had_ to say that!” exclaimed May. “She needed us to believe in her! People like Robyn don’t get to _win_ in this game, okay? She knows that! Atlas doesn’t lose just because it deserves to!”

Joanna rolled her eyes with a smile. “You are a cynical disaster, Marigold. We did it. We _beat the bastard._ She _w—”_

“Don’t _say it!”_

The voice of the broadcast cut through the crowd’s excited murmur.

_“And there we have it! Official confirmation has just come through, and the winner of the Atlas Council election is: Robyn Hill! Miss Hill’s grassroots campaign has been the favorite for months now, but there were still many who didn’t believe that an independent Huntress from Mantle could...”_

May couldn’t understand a word of what she was hearing, not through the static filling her ears. She couldn’t have heard most of it over the explosive roar of the crowd, anyway. Wild screaming filled the air; May was dimly aware of Joanna pounding her on the back before rushing into the crowd, making a beeline for the stage.

May was just barely present enough in the moment to note that Joanna seemed awfully _relieved_ for someone who’d always been completely certain Robyn would win.

Half the audience was hugging, tears of joy and relief on their cheeks; the other half was whooping and punching the air, drunk on the kind of half-mad hope Mantle hadn’t known in years. Fiona couldn’t stand it anymore; while Robyn stood shell-shocked in the center of the jury-rigged stage Fiona took her face between her hands and kissed her, hard and impulsive, heedless of the cameras. A brief ripple of surprise interrupted the cheering before the crowd redoubled its enthusiasm, making Fiona blush as she remembered herself and pulled away.

Robyn beamed down at her for a moment, stunned but uncomplaining; they’d all been cautious-verging-on-paranoid about public displays of affection since Robyn became a more public figure. The _last_ thing they needed was her enemies using Fiona or May, or even Joanna somehow, as a vector of attack. Robyn would have lost her mind with righteous anger and burned down any chance at the Council seat. 

But that didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter, the racists and bootlickers could say whatever they wanted, it didn’t _matter,_ she’d beaten him, she’d _won—_

Robyn slid an arm around Fiona’s waist to keep her from fleeing too far, but inevitably her gaze was pulled back to the projection. May had seen Robyn less dazed after genuinely being clubbed over the head; eyes wide, mouth just barely open, staring unblinking at the results as if waiting for the ABN broadcasters to start laughing and admitting to their own practical joke.

 _We should have gotten her a podium,_ May thought vaguely, through her own storm of uncomprehending emotion. Robyn hated the things, said they made her feel closed off, and May agreed; they wanted these events to feel open, intimate, they leaned into the simplicity of it and the way it made Robyn feel connected to her audience. 

But right now, fingers trembling around a simple handheld microphone, expression filled with a soft, vulnerable joy that she clearly couldn’t believe was going to last, Robyn mostly looked like she was going to pass out if she couldn’t brace herself against something.

Joanna took care of that.

Vaulting onto the stage, she threw an arm around Robyn’s shoulders and pulled her in tight, grinning widely and making several people in the audience laugh as Robyn’s instinctive hug raised earsplitting static from the speakers.

“Told you you could do it,” murmured Joanna, who’d either forgotten the live mic or didn’t care.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” breathed Robyn, who knew exactly what she was doing.

_“Anyone just tuning in, we’re now broadcasting live from the Hill campaign’s headquarters. As you can see, it has been exploding with energy since the result was called—a sharp contrast to the Schnee campaign’s headquarters, where I’m told the mood is ‘frosty’ and Jacques Schnee has yet to reappear. We’re just waiting now for the Councilwoman-elect to give her acceptance speech...”_

Robyn blinked rapidly, visibly shaking herself at the reminder. She squeezed Joanna’s shoulder again, let her fingers trail through Fiona’s for a moment before both of them moved away. Robyn twitched slightly, looking over her shoulder, a little lost—and relaxed when she finally met May’s gaze over the crowd.

May did her best to hide her anxiety and vague nausea, and gave as encouraging a thumbs-up as she could manage. Robyn’s eyes softened.

She stepped up to the edge of the stage, opened her mouth...closed it again. Closed her eyes. The crowd calmed down to listen.

It was not an unfamiliar expression, at least not to May. Robyn knew her concession speech by heart, would not have needed a moment to review it in her head.

The acceptance speech was not one she’d ever expected to give.

Finally, she opened her eyes. Half like a prayer, she breathed, “We _did it.”_

The scattered whoops and cheers were hastily shushed by their neighbors, but Robyn smiled. Her voice was steadier, though still quieter than it had ever been in rehearsal, as she continued. 

“We did it,” she said again. “All of us, together. Well...let’s be honest with each other. _You,_ more than me. I’ve dedicated my life to serving the people of Mantle, in whatever way I can. I know many of you here tonight, or watching at home, know that personally. Whether it was providing security for union events, forcing mine inspections and investigations into corrupt landlords, or just performing the Grimm patrols that what few resources we have were never able to cover...I’ve always tried to be whatever Mantle needed.”

She was hitting her stride now, and made an understated gesture back toward the victory projection.

“Well,” she said frankly, dropping her arm and tucking her free hand casually in a pocket. “We don’t do half measures down here when it comes to tough jobs to lay on an independent Huntress, do we?”

A wave of sensible chuckles. Even May, who’d heard that stupid line a thousand times, snorted quietly to herself.

Robyn gave the camera a conspiratorial look before pausing, just for the span of a heartbeat, to sigh.

“You all know I grew up in the Crater,” she said, soft and gentle, earnest. “And there were a lot of bad nights. Even after I was licensed, there were a _lot_ of bad nights. Nights when it was dark and cold and wet, and it was hard to remember anything else. They say it’s darkest before the dawn; but you can wait a long time for a sunrise in Mantle.” 

The murmur of agreement in the crowd was more solemn this time, and Robyn inclined her head.

“Well,” she said simply. “I can’t promise this will be easy. I’ve never pretended any one Huntress could magically make everything better. There’s only two things I know for certain, and one is that I will _never_ stop fighting for this city. For you, all of you, whether you voted for me or not. I want to hear from you. I want you to tell me what you need, so I can help you get it. I don’t know how to do anything _but_ fight for Mantle, and I’ll use every tool I have to do it.”

Applause broke out around the room. May, who knew her lines, called out, _“What’s the second thing?”_ and waited for the crowd to take up the call.

Robyn smiled, looked out over the audience, and said, “The sun comes up.”

* * *

Marrow rolled his eyes.

He was careful not to let any of the cameras catch him, of course. Honestly, though. Laying it on a _little_ thick, Robyn. A new day, a new dawn, a rebirth of hope, set against that rising-falcon motif with the attendant phoenix imagery?

_Subtle._

The crowd sure was eating it up, though.

Marrow shook his head with a grin, scanned the crowd again—no obvious security issues, especially when he knew for a fact Robyn had her aura up tonight just in case—and took out his nearly-continually-buzzing scroll. Quickly scrolling through the various incoherent keysmashes that _TA_ had been sending since the moment the results were called, he found one that was actually relevant.

_CE: get robyn topside asap_

Yeah, Marrow thought, totally hadn’t thought of that. Really appreciate the level of trust that I can handle the most simple assignment in the world, sir. No, I don’t mind being micromanaged on a glorified PR-op, honest. Sighing, he sent a quick affirmative before ducking around the curtains, taking the side stairs two at a time.

Robyn was clustered with her team off to stage right. Now that they were offstage and away from the cameras, they were being _completely shameless_ about their victory; Greenleaf had her leader in a headlock, laughing openly at Robyn’s attempts to squirm out of it.

“Say it!” she grinned. “Come on, Robyn, I can do this all night.”

“You know,” Robyn informed the general area of Joanna’s armpit. “Assaulting a Council member is a _felony._ Just a fun, irrelevant politics fact.”

The others didn’t look like they would be rescuing her any time soon. May Marigold was standing to the side, arms crossed, watching with a strangely wistful expression. Fiona was bouncing around the pair of them delirious with happiness, doing some kind of dance she appeared to have made up on the spot.

Greenleaf ruffled Robyn’s hair affectionately, releasing her head and throwing her into a casual armlock instead.

“You tied Jacques Schnee to a flagpole in his underwear, say it!”

Marrow was aware that his tail was going a mile a minute. Look, for all of the mistrust between them—this kind of incandescent happiness was infectious. 

“Oh, _that’d_ make an interesting soundbite,” he called as he strolled up to them. _Might get the pundits to shut up about Thyme kissing you_ was his follow-up thought, but for so, so many reasons, he decided not to voice it.

And just like that, the mood was brought down.

Only a little, but it was definitely noticeable. Greenleaf instantly dropped her hold on Robyn, for one thing; and while Fiona didn’t stop grinning or go for her weapon, she _did_ move back to Robyn’s flank.

“Congratulations,” Marrow added as an afterthought. “I mean it. I know what you all think, but I _didn’t_ actually want Jacques Schnee on the Council, and I don’t think the General did either.”

Marigold rolled her eyes. “Oh, are we friends now?”

“I certainly hope so— _Councilwoman Hill,”_ he said, smiling. He didn’t mention that, while he would have voted for Hill if he still lived in Mantle, he would have done so very, very reluctantly. For all Robyn Hill thought she was the Brothers’ gift to Mantle, there’d been _plenty_ of politicians like her before. Marrow didn’t _think_ she was the type to use cynical populist rhetoric as a way to power, she _did_ seem like she would probably try to act on her promises, but...he wouldn't bet on it. Not even with Clover over his shoulder. And it was her supporters who would pay the price if her _cavalier attitude_ towards the law blew up in her face.

And given those supporters included both his parents and his baby sister—who was _very_ upset about being too young to vote—well, the point was that Robyn Hill stressed him out.

“Oh,” said Greenleaf appreciatively. _“That’s_ got a ring to it.”

Robyn laughed—it was a nervous, almost uncomfortable sound, and she reflexively ran a hand over the back of her neck.

“It’ll take some getting used to,” she admitted. To Marrow, perfectly polite and entirely in a public-facing politician voice, she said, “What can I do for you?”

“Kind of up to you, Councilwoman,” he responded, folding his hands behind his back. Penny finally showed up, peeking around the curtains to check if she was allowed to approach yet; he nodded to her to bring her into the conversation, and suppressed a sigh as Ruby followed her up to the group. “We _are_ your security detail.”

Robyn arched an eyebrow. “Exactly how permanent does Ironwood intend to make that detachment?”

Marrow, torn between rolling his eyes and a deep-rooted instinct that told him not to openly sass Council members, settled for some kind of facial spasm that made Fiona look worried.

“You’ll have to bring that up with the General, ma’am,” he told her. “But as far as I know, it’s only until you can get proper security set up.”

“In the meantime,” Penny said with a bright smile, “I look forward to working more closely with you in a professional capacity!”

Robyn smiled at that, because you couldn’t not smile at Penny.

“Glad to hear it,” she said, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Remind me to have a _long_ talk with Ironwood about your job title.” Before Penny had a chance to shrink at her tone, Robyn reached out and squeezed the kid’s shoulder. “How’s your father doing? I haven’t spoken to him in ages.”

Lighting up again—only mostly figuratively—Penny said, “He is doing very well! His latest project is a set of electronic shoes with experimental nervous system interface nodes—”

Marrow cleared his throat. “Hey, uh...I don’t want to interrupt, but it might be a better idea to catch up later. We should really move to a more secure location. Not to be blunt, ma’am, but someone could still try to kill you.”

“Oh,” said Marigold with a sharklike smile. “Is that a _threat?”_

“May,” said Robyn patiently.

Marrow smirked at Marigold around her leader. “We’re supposed to _get along_ now, right?” he reminded her. “I mean, since we both work for the government.”

He’d been trying to piss her off, but he was still taken aback by the flash of genuine anger in her eyes as she took a step and a half toward him.

 _“May,”_ said Robyn, significantly less patiently.

“Whose _side are you—_ ” Marigold cut herself off at the speed of light, looking appalled at herself for the slip in field discipline; but the hurt and resentment in her voice for that split second had been real.

There was a flash of red, and Ruby skidded to a halt between Marrow and the others. “Hey!” she exclaimed, voice high with concern but holding her hands up non-confrontationally. “We really _are_ on the same side! On a _lot_ of things! You’d be surprised how much we have in—”

“Right,” Robyn interrupted, and she very deliberately looked over Ruby at Marrow while pointing at her. “Seriously, _who is this_ and why does she work for Ironwood’s personal hit squad?”

Fiona flicked a rose petal out of one ear, which she managed to turn into a complete sentence.

“Heh.” Ruby tapped her index fingers together with a nervous grin. “It’s...kind of a long story...not exactly the kind of thing we should talk about right now, but—come on!” she said, painfully earnest while Marrow debated whether physically putting a hand over her mouth would get him shot. “We’re all Huntsmen and Huntresses. Try to remember who the real enemy is!”

“Atlas,” said Robyn without missing a beat.

“Atlas,” agreed Marigold.

“It’s Atlas,” said Fiona. Greenleaf pointed at her in emphasis.

“...Right.” Ruby deflated slightly. “That’s...probably should have seen that one...okay, what if I told you—”

 _“Ruby,”_ Marrow hissed. “This is not—we’ll discuss—I mean, we’re not— _you aren’t even on duty tonight!_ Go hang out with Ren and Nora, they’re around here somewhere!”

“Oh yes,” Penny said brightly, “I believe they are working through their ideological differences towards the back of the crowd.”

Marrow would like to die now, actually.

“...Okay,” Robyn said slowly. She pointed at Ruby again, who had a disgusted expression that confirmed Marrow’s worst fears about what _ideological differences_ meant. “Putting a pin in whatever _you’re_ talking about, Pipsqueak—Marrow, we already have a safehouse. And I don’t actually think an official transport and AceOps showing up at the place are going to put it _less_ on the radar.”

Marrow planted his feet. This was gonna suck.

“Ma’am,” he said. Two could play at the customer service voice game. “With all due respect—”

“Oh, here we go,” muttered Ruby.

“—what you have is a _hideout._ You’re an elected official. You _need_ secure housing and real security. Your team doesn’t count, ma’am, they have to sleep too. My job is to make sure you get to the secure hotel room the General prepped for you, until you can get your new residence sorted out.”

Robyn, visibly, also planted her feet. Great. Unstoppable force, immovable object, incurable headache…

“Something tells me General Ironwood’s secure hotel room isn’t exactly nearby.”

Marrow sighed to himself. “Yes, ma’am, it’s in Atlas,” he confirmed. “Which is where the _government_ is. You really might want to consider—”

“No.” There was a flat, dangerous edge to Robyn’s refusal. “It’s _more_ than time Mantle’s representative was actually based out of Mantle. I’ve already got locations in mind for my offices, and plans for satellite locations in the next few years. Better accessibility.” She held up a hand to forestall Marrow’s retort. “But you’re right about the immediate security issue. And I’m not actually going to _fight_ you on getting an apartment with less duct tape in the walls once I can afford it.”

Penny clapped her hands together. “Excellent! We can relocate you and your team to General Ironwood’s secure suite for now, and assist in your security preparations once you’ve all had a good night’s sleep!”

“It’s...pretty nice, actually,” offered Ruby. “Totally couldn’t afford room service there, though, but...what are government paychecks for, right?”

“Stop helping,” said Marrow brightly. “Go away.”

With a salute that was not even slightly regulation, Ruby vanished in a cloud of rose petals.

Robyn quirked an eyebrow.

“Cute kid. I like her.”

Marrow groaned. “Can we _please_ get going? Or do I need to personally call in a bomb threat to myself?”

Robyn hummed and put a hand on Fiona’s shoulder.

“Fine,” she said. “If it gets Ironwood to leave us alone, I’ll come up to Atlas for a few days.”

“Statistically, it takes an average of twelve to sixteen days for a new Council member without a history of elected office to establish a functional official residence,” offered Penny.

“Thank you,” said Robyn, warm and gracious. Without missing a beat, she continued, “For a _few days._ May, Fiona, Joanna...anyone who _wants_ to come with me is welcome.”

Marrow did not miss the fact that she hadn’t asked, but he also respected it, so he didn’t say anything.

“Nice try,” said Greenleaf.

Fiona sprang forward and locked their arms together. “We’re staying together,” she said firmly.

 _“You_ don’t have a choice,” Marigold pointed out. “I’ve been watching the pundits. Half the Kingdom thinks you’re her wife and they were just too far up their own asses to notice, it’ll look _really_ bad if she leaves you behind.”

Marrow raised a hand. _“Are_ you?” he asked. “Because there’s a betting pool, and I think Harriet owes me five thousand lien.”

Robyn grinned, clapped his shoulder, and said, “Don’t push your luck, Wags.”

Marrow, whose tail had started beating gently against the back of his legs when Robyn reflexively kissed Fiona’s fingers, froze and held it stiff.

Robyn turned back to Marigold, who held her staff in a white-knuckled grip.

“No one would question it,” Robyn said gently. “It would make perfect sense for a newly-elected Councilwoman to leave her Chief of Staff in Mantle to handle setup of her offices. You don’t have optics to worry about this time. I’m _not_ going to make you go back to—”

“Shut up.” Marigold flexed her fingers around the staff, but there was no hesitation in her voice. “Of course I’m coming with you.”

Robyn stood very still, silently watching her. Marigold looked back, equally silent, head held high. After a long moment, Robyn inclined her head a fraction of an inch.

“Right,” said Marrow when he was pretty sure they were done. “So, were you planning on doing that sometime _tonight?”_

* * *

 _“...I think it’s clear looking at returns from wards with a heavy SDC presence that Schnee’s last-ditch gamble_ did _move the needle a bit, but it just wasn’t enough to outweigh Hill’s turnout game in the perimeter sectors…”_

There was a high-pitched yelp, followed by a muffled thump and the sound of creaking bedsprings.

“Don’t jump on the bed, Fiona,” said Robyn unconvincingly, not bothering to open her eyes.

“I didn’t jump!” Fiona protested. “Joanna _threw_ me!”

Eyes still closed, Robyn laughed.

“Well, that’s fine then.”

_“Hey!”_

Robyn felt as well as heard Joanna flop down after Fiona, pinning her to the bed.

“Don’t be a baby,” she said, a grin in her voice. “I only threw you a little. If you weren’t so short…”

Fiona muttered darkly under her breath. Robyn made out about every third word; something about ‘surrounded by ridiculous fucking Amazons’.

“And May,” said Robyn helpfully. Two seconds later, she was violently assaulted by some kind of angry cloud.

After shoving May off her and eventually identifying her weapon of choice as a feather pillow—it took her a few seconds, she’d never actually seen one in person before—Robyn relented enough, in light of May’s personal sacrifices, to press a quick kiss to her cheek before sitting up.

The hotel Ironwood had put them in was actually _indecent._

They were in some kind of high-security politician’s suite, and the bedroom alone was bigger than their entire apartment in Mantle. And everything was white. Stark, Atlesian blue-white on silver; Robyn was rapidly approaching the point of being willing to kill a man for a single brass tap, anything to break up the monotony.

Robyn was hit in the face by another absurdly fluffy pillow. Seriously, these things could _not_ be safe to sleep on, you’d suffocate.

“Quit glaring at the interior decorating,” ordered Joanna, stretching until her back cracked. “It’s not gonna make it less ugly.”

“It’s like being back at the Academy,” Robyn griped. 

Except that even Atlas Academy with its obscene funding ceilings had _some_ concept of practicality for its students. This was a _luxury suite_ in one of the wealthiest sectors in Atlas. Robyn and her girls were probably the only guests it had ever seen who’d never committed a war crime.

“Right,” muttered May, clicking through channels on the oversized TV as various post-election newsfeeds came in and out of commercial breaks. “The _Academy.”_

_“Both candidates so far are refusing interviews at this time, at the conclusion of one of the most divisive Council elections in recent memory. General Ironwood released a short statement offering congratulations to Miss Hill on her…”_

Robyn felt her brow furrow slightly; before she could move to check in Fiona had bitten Joanna’s ear, wriggled free, and curled up close against May’s side.

“Be fair, Robyn,” she said, shaking out a glossy menu with an utterly unreadable curlicue font. “The Academy didn’t have room service! Can we get room service?” She tilted her head. “I mean, what are the odds it’ll be poisoned?”

“Pretty decent,” said May, who’d finally managed to find the channel that broadcast Mantle Daily in this sector. “Unlike the food. Trust me, you want to order pizza.”

_“Honestly, Nate, I don’t understand why so many people in Atlas are shocked by tonight’s results. Anyone who’s been following the polls knows…”_

“I want to gloat,” Fiona corrected her. “I want to waste the Atlesian military budget on—uh, whatever this stuff is. May, what does this even say?”

May glanced at the menu for a split second. “It’s a hamburger.”

There was a pause.

_“Tori Sabot reporting here from Schnee manor, where Jacques Schnee has yet to appear after his very brief concession speech. It looks as though the Schnee campaign believed a bit too much in their recent messaging of inevitable victory…”_

Fiona finally managed to speak. “But—it’s _eighteen hundred lien!”_

“Rich people are a plague, Fiona.”

Fiona pinned her ears in disgust. “I’m ordering pizza.”

Barely suppressing a yawn, Robyn smiled and ruffled Fiona’s hair. “You do that,” she said, getting to her feet. “Just pepperoni for me.”

“Extra cheese,” added May, who was channelsurfing again.

 _“Playing again now, the moment that news of the results hit the Hill campaign’s watch party—some very, ah,_ enthusiastic _responses from the candidate’s supporters…”_

“Damn, Fiona,” commented Joanna, reclining on entirely too many pillows and wearing a shit-eating grin as Fiona turned red and hid her face in a fluffy down comforter. Onscreen, ABN was replaying footage of Robyn returning Fiona’s impulsive kiss yet again. “You _went_ for it.”

“You’d think they’d have more important things to talk about,” Fiona grumbled into her knees. “Like miner’s rights. Or tax policy!”

“Mmhmm.” May, apparently trying to spare Fiona’s feelings, flipped channels again—to find the exact same footage, this time playing under a splash banner reading _What Else Is Robyn Hill Hiding?_ She hastily went back to ABN, which had taken a break for the weather forecast. “The problem is, half of Mantle and Atlas wish they were you right now.”

Joanna smirked and hauled Fiona into her lap, nuzzling under her jaw. “And the other half wish they were _Robyn.”_

Fiona blushed even deeper and squeaked something about needing to order pizza that Joanna ignored.

Robyn rolled her shoulders and left them to it, giving May’s ponytail a light, affectionate tug in passing. They all knew perfectly well what all this sterile Atlesian conspicuous consumption reminded her of; they would trade off distracting her from those memories, if they could.

It was late, but Robyn was still nearly vibrating from the adrenaline rush of a victory she had only barely dreamed of living to see; it would be a while yet before any of them could sleep. And she needed a moment.

This high above Atlas, there should have been an audible whistle of arctic wind; the window, as Robyn leaned against it to gaze out at the glittering midnight cityscape, should at the very least have been cold. She’d been counting on that, to counteract the stifling effect of the too-powerful heating units. They’d turned the thermostat down, but buildings in Atlas and Mantle were designed to conserve heat, not shed it.

Triple-sealed vacuum panes, Robyn thought vaguely. With no air between the panes, no heat or cold could transfer through them. So she could rest her forehead against the glass and still feel no hint of the outside world. It muted the sound of the wind, too; and the walls would contain soundproofing, of course, to finish the job. No expense spared for her comfort. 

Gods forbid anyone staying here be forced to remember the realities of anything outside their own existence.

Atlas was...not beautiful, at night. Robyn was trying to be fair, trying to see it, but she didn’t. Couldn’t. Oh, it glittered in the dark, certainly; she could understand what others might see in its sweeping lines and bright lights. But it was an unnatural brightness, a false façade. Even the glowing halo around the city itself was just light pollution that made her heart ache. She knew too intimately the price of that artificial beauty.

What was the point of blocking out Mantle’s sky entirely, what was the _point_ of a city in the clouds, if you couldn’t even see the stars?

She wasn’t sure how long she stood in the window before a warm hand between her shoulder blades drew her back to herself.

“May,” she said quietly, holding out an arm by instinct.

May stepped into the circle of her arm immediately, guiding Robyn’s arm close around her waist without a word. That was as good an indication as any that being back in Atlas was affecting her more than she let on.

Of course, this was still May.

“Do we need to have _another_ conversation about snipers?” she asked sweetly, making no move to urge Robyn away from the window.

Robyn squeezed her gently. “The outside glass is mirrored.” She rested her chin on May’s shoulder. “Some kind of light-reactive Atlas tech. Privacy glass.”

“Mmm.” May obviously already knew that; she’d been in the shuttle when Penny gave them a cheerful rundown of the security features of this hotel. They were clearly intended to be reassuring, but the four of them had shared a long look that silently confirmed the litany of security measures sounded a lot like the ones you’d use in a prison. “You’re brooding again.”

“I don’t brood,” said Robyn. It was an unconscious reaction with no heat or strength behind it, and May ignored it entirely. She just leaned into Robyn’s hold on her, turning slightly to tuck her face into Robyn’s neck. 

The soft sigh against her throat was...shakier than usual.

Robyn shifted her grip slightly, lacing their fingers together. May’s clutch at her hand was a hard spasm, and Robyn held her closer.

 _“We still barely know anything about Robyn Hill! Where she came from, who’s funding her, much less this_ inner circle _of hers—another mystery woman, a faunus lover, the wayward son of—”_

Out of patience, Robyn snatched the remote off the bed and put the too-big screen on mute.

“Shut him up,” muttered May in agreement. Robyn tossed the remote back down; after a moment, May reached out and drew her back away from the smug, silent pundits, lacing her fingers into Robyn’s hood and pressing close. “They’ve been trying to scare us off for years.”

“Let them yell into the wind, Princess. They can't touch us now either." Robyn turned slightly in the window, so that May's face was guided away from the silent broadcast. “Where are…?”

“Joanna went downstairs to meet the pizza kid,” was May’s quiet response. “And Fiona’s playing with shower settings.”

Robyn had been inside actual military aircraft with smaller control panels than the shower in this place, so she figured Fiona would be a while. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead into May’s hair.

“You can’t see Mantle from here,” she finally said.

May squeezed her fingers, but only replied, “Of course not. Views of Mantle lower the property value.” A pause; then, voice eerily calm, she added, “I can see my parents’ house, though.”

Robyn bit her tongue to control her spike of white-hot rage. It wasn’t like May was saying anything she hadn’t known for years. It was just...visceral. How easy it was, up here, to just...forget. Already it felt like that blizzard of dizzying joy under golden lights in a jury-rigged warehouse was a lifetime ago.

 _We’ll be back soon,_ she reminded herself. _We’ll be home in a few days. And this time we’ll be able to_ do _something._

At the very least, she thought, and this time there were teeth behind her quiet smile, Atlas was about to have a _much_ harder time ignoring them.

“So,” said May after a long, companionable silence. “Chief of Staff, huh?”

“You knew that,” Robyn chided her softly. “That was always the plan.”

She needed all of them, desperately—as sounding boards and support and her last-ditch security, her advisory committee and PR team, her inner circle. She needed Joanna as a field operative, Fiona as head of security—but she _needed_ May as her right hand, now more than ever. She needed May to keep her house in order, to give her a fortified position to fall back to, because there were about to be wolves at their gate.

May arched a brow above one golden eye. “Were you planning to ask me?”

Robyn considered the question.

“May,” she said. “Will you be my—”

“I’d damn well _better_ be your Chief of Staff,” was May’s matter-of-fact reply. “You’re a good person, Robyn. You can’t be trusted to run a political office on your own.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Second one of the day.”

“Mmm.” Robyn leaned forward until she could kiss May properly. “That’s election fraud.”

“I quit.”

“I’m not accepting your resignation at this time.” Robyn gave a cheeky grin as May pretended to glare at her. “I need you to run my transition team at the very least.”

“Robyn, I swear to the gods, if you say—”

“You’re _good_ at those, May.”

“I’m _going_ to kill you, Robyn. I’m going to _kill you,_ Robyn—” May’s threats of treason against the Kingdom of Atlas were cut off by Robyn’s mouth, as she pinned her Chief of Staff against the window. “I—gods, right there, you’re a nightmare, you’re—a menace to civilized society—”

“And _you’ll_ be getting a job offer from Lance of Liberty any day now,” murmured Robyn. She tugged at May’s jacket. “Take this _off,_ Miss Marigold. I hope that privacy glass works, because—”

“Pizza,” announced Joanna, who’d let herself in and was entirely unfazed by the HR nightmare unfolding against the picture window. 

May groaned; Robyn heaved an exaggerated sigh, but it had been several very stressful hours since she’d eaten, and the smell of hot cheese on bread took precedence. “Later,” she promised, with a firm bite just under May’s jaw.

“I was gone for like ten minutes,” said Joanna as she started handing out paper plates. “You could have waited. Where _is_ Fiona, anyway?”

 _“Maaaaaay!”_ wailed Fiona’s voice from the bathroom, accompanied by a suspicious smell of lavender, a rapid-fire machine-gun noise that no showerhead's pulse setting should be capable of producing, and a concerning number of large bubbles through the open door. “There’s too many buttons! _I can’t turn it off!”_


End file.
